


Monarch Of My Bones

by MeeMaw



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, Jealous Dany, Jealous Jon Snow, Jorah Mormont Lives, but as you know i don't care for anyone else, just a bit, s8 is not canon, there are a bunch of other characters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-29
Updated: 2019-05-29
Packaged: 2020-03-27 12:55:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,335
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19013344
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MeeMaw/pseuds/MeeMaw
Summary: It had been ages since he had felt her warmth or any warmth at all. What he felt for Dany was wonderous and terrible. It was glorious and sinful and Jon feared that should he ever have to choose, he would always choose her above honor and duty.Rights and wrongs be damned.





	Monarch Of My Bones

**Author's Note:**

  * For [iia_ao3ac](https://archiveofourown.org/users/iia_ao3ac/gifts).



> iia, my dear, welcome back & thank you for being a burst of sunshine! I know you deserved something perfect... yeah, well... =) 
> 
> This is my attempt at trying to forget s8. I had 2 wips - one angsty and the other salty. I ditched them both today and instead, wrote this. 
> 
> Alternatively, this is me being an ostrich; ignoring show!canon.
> 
> Title inspiration:
> 
> “I crown you, small monarch of my bones,” ― Pablo Neruda

**Monarch Of My Bones**

He wasn’t particularly good at reading a woman’s mind and especially someone such as his sister who kept her shenanigans close to her chest but even he could now understand the subtle looks of disapproval his sister threw at the woman who had put her dreams at bay and agreed to help him and the people of the North. Daenerys was nothing like his half-sister, _cousin_. She did not undermine him in front of his bannermen, she aided him unconditionally and never sought anything in return. Well, at least not since she began to know him. There was a strange sort of pride and adoration Jon found in knowing that Daenerys respected him and his opinions even though they were often in direct conflict with her own interests. There were other things between him and _his_ _Dany_ that would bring a smile to his face but he wasn’t sure he was a mummer enough to keep his eyes from turning dark and face turning crimson in presence of such notorious company as Tormund, Sigorn, Tyrion, Davos and above all, his _cousin_. Jon sighed and turned his attention towards Dany who’d not been eating or partaking in revelries.

 

He hadn’t seen her smile in what seemed like ages now. Not since he had spoken about his hidden heritage with her before the Battle for the Dawn. He would be lying if he didn’t consider his cousin’s words of suspicion regarding Dany and admit that he feared she would forsake him and his people that night. But once again, Dany had proven him wrong and he was left feeling ashamed for mistrusting her. She had fought bravely from Drogon’s back and then when she lost her mount in trying to save him from the undead the Night King had raised, she had picked up a sword and fought them on the ground. He still had nightmares about that night even though he had not been there to bear witness his fierce dragon queen wielding a sword to fend off the rotting corpses from around her. He only saw her once everything went quiet and Ser Jaime carried her inside the walls of Winterfell in his arms and Ser Jorah had been brought in by two of her Dothraki blood riders. She looked small, almost like a babe in the tall knight’s arms and it stung Jon that it wasn’t him who had gone to her aid.

 

Qhono had perished fighting for her. Dany had wept for him and other Dothraki soldiers and conducted special rites so that they could join their ancestors in the _night lands_. Ser Jorah had woken three days hence and he could tell how relieved Daenerys had been to see him. She shared a bond with her dragons, with Jorah, Missandei, Greworm, and other blood-riders that was as good as or mayhaps even stronger than the bond he shared with his Stark half-siblings; _cousins_ he corrected himself.

 

It has been half a moon since the war had been won and the men and women who had survived, needed a feast to take their minds off of what they had witnessed. They all had been scarred for life and would never forget seeing a horde of dead and rotting bodies, with icy blue eyes of death.

 

“Your grace, you look unwell.” Ser Jaime asked.

 

Dany hesitated for a brief moment. “No, Ser Jaime. I’m... just tired.”

 

“I shall be honored to share more about your late brother but I must leave now..” his eyes wandered towards Brienne and Daenerys could not help notice and smile teasingly at Ser Jaime. “Are you and lady Brienne….” She then wondered if it was her place to ask a personal question such as that and seeing a conflicted look on Jaime’s face, decided to remain silent.

 

“Har!” Tormund yelled, turning his attention towards Dany, “To the dragon queen!!! She came North of the Wall before me sorry ass froze at the lake, she then marched south and brought her fighters with her...”

 

“North” Jon interrupted but all he received was a condescending smirk from Tormund and Jon thought it better to drink ale than argue with his wildling friend.

 

“She climbed on a dragon and burnt those fuckers, she killed more of those bastards with a sword!” Cheers went up in the Hall and Jon could not help but feel pride at that moment, raising a toast to her and drinking all of it down in a gulp. Tormund continued, “What sort of a woman would do that? Only a mad one or a dragon queen! Har!”

 

Daenerys acknowledged the toast and smiled at the gathering when Jon’s eyes suddenly went to the person next to her. Dany’s lord Hand was missing and, in his place, sat the knight who smiled with Dany as if they shared a secret between them. It irked Jon immensely and he looked away, turning his mind and attention to Alys Karstark who had brought Lady Eddara Tallhart with her to make acquaintance with the former King in the North.

 

“You must enjoy the feast with your _friends,_ Ser Jaime,” Dany smirked, “I shall retire to my chambers now.” Dany offered and turned her eyes towards Jon, hoping to ask him to escort her.

 

Seeing him engrossed in a conversation with Lady Alys and another lady she didn’t know, Dany decided against interrupting him.

 

From the corner of his eyes, Jon watched her leave the Hall with Ser Jaime.

 

 

 

“Who is it?” Dany asked but she knew the answer to that from the shifting of the boots close to her door.

 

She opened the door and allowed him inside even though she hadn’t received an answer.

 

“It’s not safe.” He looked around and spoke. “You opened the door without knowing who it was, your blood riders are not at the door.”

 

She could sense him from behind the closed doors, she could sense him with closed eyes. He stirred like the blood in her veins, his presence gave her life and hope. Not that she was going to admit it then. He had withdrawn himself from her and she did not want him to pursue a relationship with her out of any obligations.

 

“You could have informed me, I could’ve sent northern guards.” Jon added.

 

 _So that they could finish what your sister has begun?_ She thought but she would not say it too. Jon was too drunk to think straight, and she did not have the strength to argue with him.

 

“It’s a matter of one night and if my time has come, don’t think anyone can save me.” She spoke and continued removing her accessories and placing them on the bureau. Dany then went behind the shoji screen in her chambers and removed her coat and trousers, grabbing a robe from the corner and tying it firmly around her waist.

 

Jon felt a tightening in his belly and he averted his gaze upon realizing that Dany wasn’t aware that the candles silhouetted her enticing form even from behind the screen.

 

She then returned back to him with a small, apologetic smile gracing her lips. “Would you care to stay?”

 

Jon nodded and his unclasped cloak fell away from his shoulders on to the floor. He then removed his boots and sat on the bed with his legs footed on the flagstones. Dany annoyingly rubbed her forehead and lifting his cloak from the floor, gently folded it, running her fingers above it, inhaling it when Jon wasn’t looking and set it next to her black and red coat.

 

“Can I get you something? Are you drunk?” she turned around to ask.

 

“No” Jon wobbled when he tried to rise on his feet and then hesitantly admitted, “maybe a little…”

 

She couldn’t help but smile and then, all of a sudden, Jon nearly pounced upon her and pulled her between his solid arms. His lips fell upon hers in possessiveness, his hands evened her against him -- one carded in her braids, painful and hurting, and the other around her waist, pressing her against what Dany told herself was the hardness of his leathers. When Dany tried to pry away from him, he caught her lips between her teeth and his nimble fingers unknotted the ties of her robe, hands reaching underneath, to touch and fondle her skin. She rested her head on his chest, his hands scorching her like two brands, but she felt a new sort of agony in it. She wasn’t sure if it was the ale that had incited him after a long bout of silence and apathy. _He just needs a woman,_ _any woman_ _mayhaps_ , she thought bitterly and pushed him away. Her strength was no match for his, but he did not fight her and looked offended when she stepped away from him, covered her bare skin with the flaps of the robe held together by her unyielding arms.

 

To her surprise, Jon sneered. “So that’s it? Now that there are southern knights and wildlings alike singing songs for the mighty dragon queen, you have no need for the bastard?”

 

 _Would that I had the heart to slap him with all my might,_ she thought. Her face contorted in disgust at Jon’s words but her eyes were brimming with pain and unshed tears.

 

“Dany” he squeaked, unable to douse the heat that was rushing through his body, making him squirm with disgust at his own lack of self-control.

 

“That was all I was to you, _a need_? Someone to warm your bed? Surely only a person with such a conceited mind would say such a thing.” She asked him evenly.

 

 “I didn’t mean it that way, and you know me better than that” Jon replied. His skin suddenly turned cold and he approached her gently, keeping his distance until her face yielded and he pressed his soothing and reassuring hands against her cheek. It made her shiver this time, the iciness of his skin ignited her the way twin brands of fire could not. He lowered his face and touched his lips to her forehead, making her moan and yield into him.

 

She lifted her gaze and questioned him, “Our blood relation bothers you, isn’t it?”

 

“It’s not that simple, Dany. My entire life bothers me. I don’t know myself anymore. It took a lot from me to accept who I truly was, a bastard. And now I’m not. But as it turns out, I don’t know either of my parents. They’re stories and myths and nothing else.”

 

“We will find people who may have known them in life. People whom we can trust.” Dany assured him and did not want to bring up Ser Jaime again in their conversation. “You may seek help from your greenseer brother if you wish.” She suggested.

 

“I was lied to all my life. I spent countless nights wondering if my mother was alive, if she wanted me. They say my sire left his family for my mother and everyone involved met a fateful end. That rebellion took everything and everyone. Tell me how one ever reconciles with such a thing?” His voice was filled with heartbreak as well as disgust. Not that in her mind Dany had not explored the possibilities if her own life would have been different had Jon been with her in Essos. A lot of water had flown under the bridge and Dany hoped to move on from there.

 

“The rebellion didn’t take everyone. We are both here. The last Targaryens. Viserys, my brother, he kept me safe from the usurper’s hired knives, kept me fed and clothed, he taught me letters, without him I might not have known my sires’ and brother’s names, he taught me to take pride in my House, what it meant to be a dragon. I’ll give him all of that. And then he sold me.” Her voice went still, and Jon derided himself for forcing her to relive those memories. He tried to interrupt but Dany cut him off. “What I’m saying is, while you’re within your rights to feel anger, even hatred, don’t try to fight with those who aren’t alive. They’re not here to justify their acts. Remember the good in people and in time, you will forget the pain they caused. I can assure you of that.”

 

“Thank you, Dany” Jon cupped her face and kissed her.

 

With a silent nod from Jon, Dany began unbuckling his belt. She helped him in untying the laces of his gambeson and when he was standing in his britches, she slipped away from his hands, tucking herself inside the furs on the plush bed, her robe lying forgotten at the edge.

 

Without looking towards the bed behind him, Jon knew that she was giving him a choice. He could choose her, or he could choose loneliness and misery. He unlaced the last of his clothing and peeled it away from his skin before sinking into the bed, by her side.

 

“Dany” Jon rasped, bringing his mouth to the pulse of her neck.

 

“You don’t have to… you can just sleep here, Jon,” she suggested and unwillingly moved away from his touch, brushing her lips against his forehead.

 

It had been ages since he had felt her warmth or any warmth at all. What he felt for Dany was wonderous and terrible. It was glorious and sinful and Jon feared that should he ever have to choose, he would always choose her above honor and duty. _Rights and wrongs be damned._

 

“I want to take you” his eyes surged and he waited for her to accept him the way he had accepted her. With an open heart, without regrets, without compromises.

 

Dany blinked coyly but Jon would not have it. “I want to hear you say it.”

 

“Take me, Jon.” She whispered, gazing into his deep black pools.

 

He wrapped himself around her as if she was a trophy that could be stolen from him. Her skin was smooth and tender, but when he looked down, she still bore the red and blue blemishes from the fall and the fighting that had followed. He kissed each one of those scars. “I’m sorry, I wasn’t with you.”

 

“I had help” she smiled, to set his heart at peace.

 

“I hate him. I hate any other man who can make you smile. And I hate myself for being _that_ person.” Jon admitted.

 

She tugged at the leather that bound his hair and combed her fingers through them. “You know I love you and only you. Or do you not? And I am not the one looking to make alliances through marriage.”

 

“You aren’t?” Jon raised his brows.

 

“Surely not with friends of Lady Alys!” she huffed.

 

Jon looked befuddled. _Did I have too much ale and did something?_ He wondered what Dany was talking about.

 

It only annoyed her more but when she realized that he’d truly been oblivious to the charms of the young northern maid, she giggled breathlessly.

 

“What is it?” It was Jon’s turn to huff and snap.

 

“Lady Alys’ friend, she wasn’t just making acquaintance. It was more than that, my ice dragon!” she lovingly caressed the sides of his face and kissed him on his nose.

 

Realization dawned upon Jon, making him smile smugly. “Oh! Then I must not let any maids near my charms.”

 

“I would agree with you on that” Dany giggled some more.

 

“What about Jaime?” he asked her then.

 

“You’ll have to trust me.” She rolled her eyes and pinched his arm.

 

“More than myself.” He murmured, pressing himself into her, feeling the rhythm of her heart beating against his palm.

 

He felt a flutter in his belly when Dany closed her hands around his shoulders, dragging her skin against his rough beard pushed him down on her chest. He left a trail of pink scratches on her skin and moved to lick the color with his wet tongue.

 

Need and lust burrowed deep inside his bones, coming to settle in the pits of his belly, leaving him a breathless, shuddering being. “Dany” he groaned her name, hauntingly so.

 

“Jon” she sang back to him in the shell of his ear and what followed was a sweet _silence;_ save for the rustle of sheets and furs, labored breathing of souls, wet slurps of tongue and lips, and frenzied colliding of skin against skin.

 

Dany inhaled the earthy, musky smell of the leathers on his sinews and Jon searched for the faint smell of lavenders in the curve of her neck. She carded her fingers through Jon’s hair and her heart thundered boisterously against his mouth when he closed his lips around the erect tips of her breasts. She drew circles with her thumb around the nape of his neck, scratching his scalp lightly and smiling to herself upon finding him pliant and eager after days of sorely missing him in her life.

 

He hummed against her, so softly and also, so full of need, stirring the dark _want_ inside her. His fingers were maddeningly skilled when they moved in rhythm with his hot, laving tongue. He smiled - a hushed, mocking and vainly sneer full of pride and reverence – both vaguely aware of the power they held over each other.

 

“Jon” she beckoned and Jon craned his neck to gaze in the pools of lilac and she feared she’d drown in his bottomless pits of molten coal if she stared too long. Lids fell like curtains over her eyes, her long lashes kissing the top of her cheeks. His palm flattened against her ribs and pressing her down, Jon caught the trail of the skin from her navel to the swollen, parted lips of her mouth. She opened her mouth and he rolled his tongue around hers; they danced for long, deepening and sometimes caressing, sharing the same breath of air, warm and damp and _theirs_.

 

His hardness was already pressed against the damp thatch of her golden hair and taking it in his hand, he guided it into her depths. She writhed when his hands gripped her bottom, hard and stubborn and greedy with a promise to never let go. It was unlike Jon to cause her hurt, but he knew that he would leave bruises on her supple skin. When Dany moaned a gasping “yes” and bared the life vein of her throat for him to plunder, he knew that he was too far gone to hold himself back.

 

He couldn’t stop because she was riding the storm with him, cooing and arching into his touch, the light scrapes of her nails replaced by deep crimson lines she’d etched on his forearms.

 

He ravaged her as he arched his back and hoisted himself on his arms, offering her his chest to claw and sup. She trembled and cried and yet, her legs around his thighs drew him deeper. She was tight and small, his beautiful queen whom he had pleasantly _ruined_.

 

She desired to look at his face, as he whined and riled, and groaned sharply when she unmade him -- tightly clenching him in the cradle of her legs. He was perfect, handsome, and flushed, and crowned with beads of sweat similar to her own - _the monarch of her heart_.

 

 

 

Jon dreamed of a home that night. Built in pale marble and a red door. He saw Dany, smiling vibrantly and cradling a babe in her arms. The babe had his eyes and Dany’s hair. He could not tell if it was a boy or a girl, but they were beautiful, the loveliest sight he had ever seen in his life. When he woke up from the dream, Dany was still asleep, blithely nestled in his arms, face calmly resting against his chest and a hand resting below her ribs, as if she were holding priceless treasure beneath it.

 

“Marry me,” he said the first thing upon waking up. “Tonight?” he asked when she nodded.

 

Dany smiled and nodded again.

 

*~*~*

**Author's Note:**

> Considering there are so many wonderful fics to read, I'm thankful that you even reached so far! Please leave a comment if you can! <3


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